


Let's Play a Love Game

by Loreyulia



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Dorks being absolute dorks, Fluff, Gift Exchange, Lets play AU, M/M, Oneshot, Video game references out the wahoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 21:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5471171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loreyulia/pseuds/Loreyulia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco Bodt is an average guy with a job at Target, and a love for video games. This love is shown through his YouTube channel where he does video game playthroughs. He meets fellow YouTuber Jean, the most pretentious gamer he's ever had the chance to meet. This is the story of how they fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Play a Love Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trashpits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashpits/gifts).



It had been a long, tiring day and Marco wanted nothing more than to plant himself face first into his temperpedic mattress, and sleep for at least 8-10 hours. Working over time three days in a row was definitely taking its toll. There were faint smudges under his dull, bloodshot eyes, and he was running on far too much caffeine than was probably healthy for the human body. Bills couldn't pay themselves though, he forlornly thought. Being an Adult sucked... 

 

His shift was almost over at least; just roughly around a half an hour left and he would be home free. Beside him his co-worker Ymir bitched about how lucky he was to be getting off so soon. Marco could only grimace sympathetically when she yawned, and looked half way ready to drop dead on her feet. He just hoped beyond all hope, that when he finally did get home, his roommates Reiner and Bertholdt mercifully kept their too-loud love making down to a decent noise level. Sometimes ear plugs and white noise apps could only do so much to drown out their disturbingly obscene sexcapades. 

 

"I watched your latest vid last week," Ymir segwayed the conversation when she got tired of complaining, "that part when you lost your ever loving shit over that meow noise Link made was priceless! You were laughing for like a full minute over it-- I seriously debated calling you up to see if were okay in the head." 

 

Marco couldn't help the few giggles the memory provoked as he replied, "Hey, that part always gets me-- I can't help it!" 

 

Ymir smiled lopsidedly and shook her head. "You're such a dork Marco." 

 

And with that, their impromptu conversation was cut short as a withered, elderly man began to shakily place his items on the conveyer belt at Marco's register. He plastered on his sweetest smile and relayed the obligatory, "Did you find everything you needed today sir?" spiel. The man shifted his ruemy eyes over to Marco, and gave him a gap toothed smile as he responded that 'yes he had' and 'the price on pickles was very reasonable today

 

Small talk was made, and Marco bagged the items and wished the man a good evening-- and such was the life of Marco Bodt, Target cashier. 

 

\------- 

 

Parking his forest green 1999 Honda Accord in its alloted space, Marco happily shut the engine off and tumbled out of his car. Making double sure that the door was locked, he then made his way to the stairwell that led to the two bedroom apartment that he shared with his roommates. They got lucky with the location, and only had to traverse one flight of stairs and then it was only three doors down from the stairwell. 

 

Marco fished his key out from the tangle of various things he had on his keyring, and opened the door to Apt. #87c. "Bert, Rei-- I'm home!" He called out the usual greeting. He had walked in on them boning in the living room far too many times to count; so if he could prevent himself from having to use more brain bleach to erase the memories, then he would just about do anything. There was no answer. 

 

Marco realized then that Reiner's and Bertholdt's shoes were missing from the entryway and that they were obviously out. Relief washed over him-- now he could most likely fall asleep without resorting to blaring music on his ipod to cancel out the sound of their head board slamming against the wall. Repeatedly. For hours... 

 

Toe-ing off his Nike's that had seen better days, Marco bee-lined it for the kitchen and set the kettle on the burner to heat some water for a cup a' noodle. He was too damn tired to care about the fact that he was about to eat a heart attack in a cup-- and honestly, they were delicious as fuck. He would die a happy death, when the day came. 

 

Marco headed to his room while he waited for the kettle to boil and stripped his sweaty, red uniform shirt off to exchange it for a soft cotton, grey tank top. His tan khakis went next as soon as he undid his belt, and he grabbed his red and black flannel pajama bottoms and shimmied them on. Now that he was comfortable, Marco snatched his laptop and headed back to the living room; flopping gracelessly onto their garage sale, gaudy 70's flower print sofa, that could pull out into a bed. 

 

Kicking his socked feet up onto the coffee table, Marco perched his laptop in his lap and powered it up. Just as soon as the screen appeared for him to enter his password, the kettle began to shrill its ritual melody. Marco set his laptop aside and shuffled over to the kettle to move it onto an empty burner to end its shrieking. He unwrapped the plastic from around the cup and lifted the flimsy paper lid so he could pour the water over his noodles. 

 

Three minutes set on the timer, Marco leaned against the counter to wait. As he boredly looked around the tiny kitchen, he noticed an orange sticky note on the box of Captain Crunch near the cupboards. Reaching over, he pulled it off and squinted to try and make out Reiner's untidy scrawl: 

 

Went Christmas shopping with Christa-- be back later tonight. Bert says you should check out this youtuber Jeanbo, he says you might like his stuff. 

\--Reiner. 

 

Marco crumpled up the neon note and swished it effortlessly into the waste basket. The timer went off, so he grabbed his noodles and a fork, and went back to the living room to settle himself comfortably onto the couch once more. Setting his laptop back on his knees and the cup a' noodle on the lamp stand beside the couch, Marco typed in his password one-handed. The home screen blinked into existence and Marco clicked the little red, YouTube icon. 

 

As soon as the site page loaded he typed 'Jeanbo' into the search bar, just to see why Bert suggested this channel to him. The first video that popped up read We've met with a terrible fate and had a thumbnail of Deku Link from Majora's Mask. A fond smile spread across Marco's face; memories of summers spent playing that game on his old Nintendo 64 resurfaced. A magical, simpler time, where all that mattered was adventure and having fun. 

 

Marco clicked on the video without giving it much more thought than re-living age old nostalgia. 

 

A young man's long, angular face immediately came into focus, and he had the cutest little sideways smile settled on his lips. "Hello viewers new and old, Jeanbo here-- ready to play another game," the man announced, shifting his wine red beanie to reveal more of the sandy mop of hair that had dark brown roots underneath his trendy undercut. 

 

He leaned back casually now in his computer chair and continued, "This time I'll be going through my absolute favorite game of all time-- The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask." 

 

Marco smiled, the man in the video looked so happy-- like a little kid at Christmas with his amber eyes all lit up in wonder. The screen then changed to black, with white text gradually appearing that Jeanbo read aloud, like he could recite the opening sequence by heart. Marco found his attention drawn more towards the little thumbnail in the right corner of his screen, than the cinematics that unfolded. The youtuber's facial expressions as he relayed dialogue, or the off-handed jokes he made, had Marco completely captivated. 

 

By the time the video was over, and Link had regained his original form, Marco could say more about how the man's tongue piercing would clack against the backs of his teeth if he talked too fast, or how he had a habit of singing Panic! At the Disco songs under his breath while he concentrated on doing something. 

 

Jeanbo signed off with a cocky smirk, and the cutest wink Marco ever witnessed from another guy. 

 

Expelling a shaky breath, and trying to ignore the warmth in his cheeks-- Marco grabbed blindly with one hand for his cold noodles, and with the other he clicked on another video. 

 

\----- 

 

MarcRoBodt commented on your video: 

 

The fact that you belted out Let's Kill Tonight while slaying Odolwa was quite fitting-- I'm sensing P!ATD gives you some kind of super power. :) 

 

Jean quirked a half smile at the text on his newest video. It had only been uploaded for a little over an hour, but already he had quite a few comments and likes on it-- and that made him ecstatic! Slinking back into his big, squishy bean bag chair, he replied: 

 

Jeanbo- didnt you kno Brendons angelic vocals and well crafted lyrics bestow mystical powers on the listeners? 

 

He finished his response with a satisfied punch on the question mark key, and posted it. 

 

Over the past couple weeks this MarcRoBodt guy had been leaving tons of comments on his videos-- from new to old-- and they were always sweet, with the right amount of snark. Curious one day, Jean clicked on the guy's channel and was surprised to find that he also did Let's Play videos. Since today he had little else to do while he waited for his laundry to dry, Jean started up the first video that showed up on his feed. 

 

An 8-bit melody opened up the video, and Jean quickly recognized the song was something from Kingdom Hearts; but he couldn't quite place it. "Hiya! And welcome back to another installment in our playthrough of Mario Galaxy!" The guy had a wide, charming smile that reached from ear to ear-- and a fuckton of freckles scattered across his face. His eyes were a warm chocolaty color that made something fizzle in the pit of Jean's stomach; like, he could tell this guy was one of those genuinely nice and kind people, just by looking at him. 

 

With a small smile, Jean reached absently for his Starbucks cup and slurped down the dregs of his white mocha latte, while he lost himself in sunkissed skin, and adorable laughter. 

 

\----- 

 

It was one particularly dreary evening in early February when Jean was updated with MarcRoBodt's newest video. Naturally, over the course of a couple months, the two of them had created some thread of friendship through their mutual love of gaming. So the tagline of the video definitely caught his attention, since his friend hadn't once brought this up; until now. 

 

"I'M MOVING!" 

 

It read, and intrigued, Jean started watching the video. 

 

"Hey guy's" the youtuber began, running his hand distractedly through his hair; ruffling it into an absolute mess. He gave the video camera a small, tired smile before he continued, "So, as you can see from the headline of this Vlog, I'm moving. Which means for the next few weeks, maybe even a month, I'll be too busy to upload anything." 

 

He sighed, and frowned. "I'm getting transferred and promoted with my job, but the new location is too far to commute-- So my parents are helping me out, and found me a place to stay. I know a lot of you were excited to know what happens next in the current game I'm playing... but, all I can ask is for you guy's to be patient. As soon as I have the free time, I will work on new videos. Until then, keep having an awesome time, and always have fun gaming! 

 

"MarcRoBodt, out" The video cut off with one last tiny smile, and a little wave toward the camera. 

 

Jean immediately went to the comments, and scrolled through to make sure no punk ass kid was going to make his sort of internet friend feel guilty for taking a break. Luckily there were only positive messages about 'not worrying too much about it' and 'hope the move goes well'. If there was even a shred of negativity, Jean was going to make heads roll-- this MarcRoBodt guy was too pure, and good for shit like that. 

 

Fingers clacking swiftly across the keys, Jean composed his own message: 

 

Jeanbo- hey, y didnt you tell me you were moving? I thought we were bros :P jk hope the new place isnt some shit hole like where I live in Trost!  

 

Jean left the YouTube page after the that, not really expecting a reply to his silly message, and he clicked on the Tumblr icon instead. A few minutes passed by of him sifting through lyric gifsets and heaps of fandom crap, when a notification caught his attention. 

 

MarcRoBodt- We are the bro-eist of bros. And I'll be the judge on how much of a 'shit hole' Trost is when I get there. 

 

Jean's eyes blew wide and a smile slowly started to creep across his face as some thing sparked inside of him. The news made him so oddly excited, that he took a few moments to reign it in before he keyboard smashed his reply: 

 

Jeanbo- dude-- if youre moving to trost we should ttly meet up! I kno this great arcade that has bomb pizza and i can show u around town. 

 

Now that the response was sent, Jean sat and felt like a giant ball of jittery idiot. Normally he wouldn't give even the people he had known for years the time of day unless they bought him coffee for his troubles-- but, there was something different about this guy. Some thing special. 

 

He surprised himself with how excited he was at the prospect of meeting this guy face to face.

 

MarcRoBodt- You know, you're kind of giving off a creepy stalker vibe. But, since you suggested a place where there will be witnesses, I suppose I could take you up on the offer. When I get into town, I'll let you know so we can set up plans :) 

 

Jean stared in disbelief at the screen, dumbfounded over how easy it was to get the guy to say yes. He couldn't even get Connie to agree on going with him to play laser tag... even after he offered the guy ten bucks and all you could eat hot wings. 

 

Jeanbo- cool! youll kno me when u see me. I'll be the guy w/ shifty eyes, a bag of candy, and a windowless white van 

 

MarcRoBodt- How considerate of you to bring me candy, you really know how to make a guy feel special. ;) 

 

With that last message, Jean shut down his laptop after he got a look at the time, and scrambled around his living room looking for his vans-- since he had to be to work in about a half an hour. 

 

Nothing could burst his bubble for the rest of the day; not even having to work a night shift with Jaeger. 

 

\------ 

 

Marco's anxious reflection stared back at him for what must have been the 8th time since he had first woken up and painstakingly picked out an outfit that felt both casual, yet put together. His fingers sifted through his artfully done (I might have slept with gel in my hair and woke up like this, yet actually spent hours on it) hairstyle, and he sighed. 

 

Even if this was just some casual meet up at an arcade, that probably smelled like stale pizza grease and teen spirit, Marco wanted to make a good impression on a new, potential friend. Especially since he had to leave behind Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie; his three best friends back in Jinae. 

 

Jeanbo had found his Facebook page shortly after their conversation in the comments section of his video; and sent him a message stating that, when the time came, they could set up plans privately through Facebook. 

 

So, as soon as Marco embarked on the five hour long drive through the rural, winding mountain roads of Jinae to the small city of Trost, to set up his new life, he contacted his fellow YouTuber. 

 

Marco informed him that he finally made it into the Maria district, and that so far he thought Trost was far from being a 'shit hole' as the other had so eloquently put it. They exchanged snide remarks about how Marco wouldn't know a nice city if it bit him on the ass, having spent his whole life in a Hicksville like Jinae; to which Marco responded that at least he wasn't a pretentious hipster with a bad habit of singing songs under his breath that only a 90's punk kid would remember. 

 

It was absolutely mind boggling that he could get along with such a self-important guy like Jeanbo-- but, well... they just sort of clicked. Neither of them were afraid of offending the other with their jokes, and that was kind of refreshing. Then again, Marco had to remind himself, they had only chatted a few times over faceless internet connection. It was different learning how some one presented themselves over the web, as opposed to getting to know some one face to face. 

 

Marco just hoped that this all went well, and that he wouldn't embarrass himself too much in front of the cool, edgy hipster... 

 

\----- 

 

The arcade was absolutely packed by the time Marco got there, and did indeed smell exactly as he imagined it would-- with the added bonus of old carpet that had never been shampoo'd smell, to spice up the potent cocktail of scents. It reminded Marco of his friendless pre-teen years, when he had to wear glasses and braces. 

 

He nervously looked around the crowded entrance, trying to block out the flashing neon lights and blaring sounds that jumbled into a hellish symphony of techno beats, roaring sirens, and screaming children. The tables were located towards the back of the arcade, and finally, off to one side in a secluded corner, he spotted a familiar wine red beanie in a sea of heads. 

 

"Hello," Marco chirped as a greeting to catch the guys attention, when he finally managed to contort his body through the crowd; in ways that should only be needed when playing Twister. 

Sharp, intense amber eyes snapped up to his face-- and the scowl on the man's lips slowly turned into some thing much softer. "Hey," he offered, gesturing for Marco to take a seat across from him in the little booth. 

 

Marco seated himself and gave the other man a sheepish smile. "Sooooo," he started, idly drumming his fingers on the table top, "would it be okay if I recorded this? I wanted to see if we could do a Vlog for our little get together." 

 

"Yeah, sure-- 's fine with me. I'm Jean by the way," the blond stretched out a hand for Marco to shake. 

 

"Marco. It's nice to meet you Jean!" He replied, shaking Jean's hand enthusiastically. 

 

When their hands separated, Marco went about fetching his video camera from the depths of his messenger bag and turned it on. With a lopsided smile, Marco got up and pushed Jean over so he could sit next to him; swiveling the camera so they could both be in shot. 

 

"Hiya everyone," Marco stretched the arm holding the camera out as far as he could, so his other hand could be seen waving at it. "I'm commemorating my first day in Trost by hanging out with my fellow YouTuber friend Jeanbo-- say hi to all your fans," he teased, poking Jean's slightly scowling face playfully. 

 

"Yeah yeah," Jean griped, but nevertheless faced the camera and nodded, "'sup." 

 

Marco burst out laughing, which earned him a sullen glare from his companion. He couldn't help it, Jean was acting like a moody teenage boy who had been forced to go with his mom to a Taylor Swift concert. "Pardon my friend's surly demeanor, we haven't ordered pizza yet, and I think the Princess is getting peckish." Marco flashed Jean a shit eating grin, to which the blond sent him a suggestive finger gesture in response. 

 

The two of them bickered for a while, Marco recording their whole exchange, before Jean got up and went to the front of the arcade to place their pizza order. Marco sat there, making a goofy face at the camera before he started rambling, "Geez, I was totally right-- this place smells like my sad childhood and dirty dollar bills. Jean picked it out, so before you guys judge my tastes in arcades, there's the truth of it. The pizza better be as good as he says it is, otherwise he'll have to take me on another bro date to make up for it." 

 

"You having fun being a little shit," Jean asked when he got back, carrying two bottles of A&W rootbeer. "I didn't know what soda you liked, so I just got you the same as me." he added, sliding into the booth next to Marco; getting to push him over this time. 

 

"Thanks! For future reference though, I like raspberry tea the most." 

 

Jean made a face at that, to which Marco just shrugged. "So, are we gonna play any of these games after we gorge ourselves on questionable pizza?" 

 

"Okay for one, take your sass, put it in your pocket, and save it for a rainy day-- because this pizza is going to blow your mind," Jean proclaimed loudly, "and two, only if you want me to severely kick your ass at any and every game in here." 

 

A very Cheshire like grin appeared on Marco's face. "Oh you're so on." 

 

\----- 

 

Marco leaned back, his belly full of cheese, grease, and pepperoni. "Okay, I'll give it to you Jean-- that pizza was amazing. I don't know how they did it, but they some how made it taste like the best, most awful thing you can ever eat, at the same time." 

 

"Told you so," Jean preened, looking absolutely pleased with himself. 

 

The camera was paused for now, since Marco didn't think it'd be fun for his viewers to watch him stuff his face. He'd have to clip in later that he conceded defeat, and admitted that the pizza was great. 

 

Jean was quiet for a while, his fingers idly scratching at the paper label around his root beer. "By the way, I brought you a gift but I left it in my car. I kind of thought for a while that you might not show up, and you were just pranking me to get some views... so I decided not to bring it in, just in case that was what happened. Figured it'd help me look like less of a loser that way..." 

 

"Okay," Marco's voice was firm and a little confused, "why the heck would I do some thing like that? And why would you even think I would?! That's just stupid, and cruel." 

 

Jean wouldn't meet his eyes, and he shrugged. "I dunno, but a lot of people like to mess with me. It just seemed like some thing that could happen, especially since hardly any one has ever shown interest in befriending me. If you couldn't tell, I'm kind of an asshole-- So I don't blame them." 

 

Marco mulled over what Jean had to say for a few seconds, and then soundly bro punched him on the arm. "Don't think like that you dork. I wouldn't have agreed to make plans with you, if I didn't think you were funny, and cool, and that we could get along." 

 

Jean rubbed at his arm, but he smiled-- unabashedly wide, with a slight flush high on his cheeks. "Thanks man," he mumbled, shy and sincere. The softness quickly left his demeanor though, and he cast a sharp glance at Marco; a fiery challenge burning in his amber eyes. "Wanna get your ass kicked at DDR?" 

 

"I guess I can humor you this once, but be warned-- I was the master at DDR back in Jinae." 

 

"Yeah, sure you were. I bet a dweeb like you couldn't tell your ass from your elbow when it came to dancing games." 

 

With large, dopey smiles, the two of them scrambled toward the token machine, ready to prove the other horribly wrong. 

 

\---- 

 

Hours later they were sweaty and flushed, both with an arm load of tickets from various games, and equal bragging rights. 

 

Jean stomped Marco at DDR, his lanky body perfect for pulling off every combo the game could throw at them. In an attempt to win back some street cred, Marco challenged him at air hockey and totally annihilated the blond-- who had been extremely confident that no one could match his ninja like reflexes. 

 

They played racing games, and Skee Ball, Jean even got Marco to play Spider Stomp with him, in which they cheated together to earn more tickets. By the time they fed their tickets through the counter machine, and had their receipts spell out some obscene ticket cash, they were calling each other names and horsing around like five year olds. 

 

They sauntered up to the counter, and picked out some of the dorkiest prizes they could; each of them getting a pair of plastic sunglasses and a disco ball on a chain that Jean immediately looped over each of their heads. Marco also got a deck of cards shaped like bacon slices, and Jean spent the rest of his ticket credit on jolly ranchers. 

 

Marco had recorded the whole thing when he had his hands free, and when he didn't he'd pass the camera over to Jean. There was some quality stuff captured from their afternoon together, and Marco looked forward to going home and editing it to make it as silly as possible. They left the arcade after they got their prizes; the icy bite of an early spring night in Trost making them shiver and huddle just a bit closer. 

 

"Hey, thanks for coming today Marco-- I had a blast. My roommate Connie has been too busy lately to spend any time with me, so it was really fun to get to do some thing not by myself for a change." 

 

"I had lots of fun too, we definitely need to do it again some time," Marco beamed, sinking his hands into the pockets of his baby blue cardigan. 

 

They were caught up in staring at one another's faces for a while, the mutual warmth of a budding friendship, palpable between them. "Oh yeah," Jean snapped his fingers suddenly, "before you go, come to my car with me so I can give you that gift I mentioned earlier." 

 

"Mkay," Marco responded, following after Jean's hunched figure; the blond obviously trying to ward away some of the chilly air nipping at his skin. Marco let out a low whistle of appreciation once he clapped eyes on the kind of ride Jean was blessed with. "What I wouldn't give for a beauty like that," he complimented, appraising the cherry red Cadillac in front of them. 

 

"You like it?" Jean actually sounded surprised by that. 

 

"Like it, I love it! Man, if I had a car like that I'd be a happy man... my car is old, like late 90's old, but definitely not an ageless beauty like that." He didn't sound bitter, or envious, only breathless with admiration. 

 

A little smile curled Jean's lips. "Every one says it's not a sensible car for this kind of terrain, and they chalk it up to me being the pretentious hipster douche that I am, but this was my dad's car and I'm proud to have inherited it." 

 

It seemed a lot of people in Jean's life liked to assume things about him, instead of taking the time to pry open his prickly armor, to see what kind of person he really was within. It also seemed that Jean realized this fact, and had made his peace with it; as he always shrugged the revelations off indifferently. 

 

Jean opened up his car door, and leaned over to get whatever it was he was after-- and he gifted Marco with a spectacular view of his cute little butt; his dark skinny jeans shamelessly tight in all the right places. 

 

"Here ya go, as promised-- one bag of candy," Jean proudly held out an assortment of candy in a fancy bag from what looked to be some local sweets shop. The blush heating up Marco's face at almost getting caught checking out his new friends ass, only burned hotter as he started to laugh. 

 

"You actually followed through on your lame joke! Jean, you are without a doubt, the biggest dork I've ever met." 

 

Instead of getting offended, Jean just perked up even more and shoved the candy into Marco's face. "Just take the damn candy and stop laughing, it was brilliant and you are jealous of my wit." Marco accepted the bag, and shook his head fondly. 

 

And, from that moment on, Jean Kirschtein became the best person that he had ever had the chance to meet. 

 

\---- 

 

From Marco: hey, I was thinking since we've been hanging out and collabing on videos so much already, that maybe we should just become one YouTube channel. It'll help us get more recognition if we combine our fan base, and over all make things easier. What do you think? 

 

Jean thought for a few hours on the idea. 

 

Marco brought up a lot of valid points, after all. It was true, ever since they met at the arcade in March, they had hit off and spent almost every day talking to eachother in some way, shape, or form. And Marco's Vlog about their day together had pulled in more views than anything either of them had ever done on their own. In the end, the decision was an easy one to make. 

 

To Marco: yeah sounds like a really smart idea. Lets do it! Wanna swing by my place and work on the new channel together? Connies gone so the apartment doesnt smell like weed

 

A couple rounds of Smash online later, Jean's phone buzzed against the wooden surface of his computer desk. He rolled out of his blanket burrito to paw for his phone, and opened the text as soon as he got ahold of it. 

 

From Marco: be there in an hour, I'm going to bring by Chinese if that's okay? I got a coupon in the mail yesterday. 

 

To Marco: of course youd use coupons, nerd 

 

Jean chuckled, getting up and stretching out the kink in his lower back. He shuffled over to the bathroom he had to regrettably share with Connie, and Connie's gal pal when she was so smoked out she had to crash for the night. He took a very satisfying leak, and then mussed around with his hair a bit, before scowling at his reflection, and wondering why he was even bothering trying to look good for Marco. 

 

He went back to his room for his phone and 3ds, only to relocate to the living room since Connie wasn't there to hog it. He flopped down onto the squishy couch, crossing one leg on top of the other, and opened up his 3ds to challenge some one else. Partway through a match against his Lucina versus Dark Pit, there was a knock on the door. 

 

"COME IN," Jean shouted, knowing that it was Marco at the door. "I'M BUSY SMASHING," he added, so Marco would know he wasn't just being a dick, by not helping bring in the food. 

 

The door swung open moments later, Marco precariously balancing paper cartons like some kind of Chinese food tower, as he made his way inside. "I use coupons to save money because I'm not made of it like you," Marco replied as a greeting, probably too preoccupied to send that response in text form. 

 

Jean lost the match, his attention so focused in on Marco's presence that it was embarrassingly distracting. He shut his 3ds and got up to assist Marco in setting out the food, and getting paper plates. 

 

They dished up whatever they wanted, and fell deeply into the couch with chopsticks and a couple cold beers from the fridge. Through a mouthful of lo mein, Jean asked, "This whole combining our channels thing, you think it'll work out for us? It'd be cool to get paid for making videos to be honest..." 

 

Swallowing his bite of fried rice, Marco replied, "Yeah, I think it could work. If anything, it will get our viewership together and raise the numbers. Plus, we can do a lot of two player games, which I think could be fun for people to watch." 

 

"Yeah," Jean mulled it over for a moment, "but the constant commuting is gonna be killer on gas for the both of us." 

 

Marco's face went a bit red, and he bowed his head to shovel what was left of his fried rice into his mouth; mumbling around the food so softly, Jean barely heard him. "I was uh... I was thinking that maybe you could move into my place." 

 

Noodles slowly slithered between the slackened grip Jean now had on his chopsticks, and they fell back into his sweet and sour sauce with a wet splatter. "B-beg pardon?" Marco was not seriously suggesting what he thought he was suggesting... 

 

"Well, I-I have the extra room that I'm not using, and you're always complaining about Connie and Sasha making the apartment reek of weed. You know, just thought it would be the best option for everyone involved." 

 

"Dude," Jean immediately chipped in after Marco's nervous tirade, "that'd be awesome! You'd really let me move in?" 

 

Marco shrugged, "Well yeah. I mean, I know you would have a longer commute to work, but it would save us both on gas having to drive back and forth to our houses all the time." 

 

Jean set his food aside on the coffee table and, maybe slightly buzzed off of Budweiser, he smooshed Marco into a forceful bear hug. "This is going to be so righteous!" He snuggled his face deep into the emerald green sweater shirt Marco was wearing, and grinned like he had just won a million dollar prize. 

 

\---- 

 

Within a week Jean was settled into Marco's apartment, and their new channel was up and running. On a drunken whim the night they had formulated their idea, they decided on naming their new channel FreckledStallion. In the morning the idea wasn't as hilarious as it had been when they were both tipsy, and slouched too close together on the couch. They stuck with the name though, because it marked the start of their bro-ship growing deeper. 

 

Things between Jean and Marco worked out surprisingly well, much to either of their surprise. They expected to get into at least one fight by now, but the only thing they ever fought about, was who was the better gamer; and those arguments were always solved by intense grudge matches and inventive insults. 

 

Their fan base grew exponentially over night, and with the extra views, subscription's, and likes that they were getting on their videos, they were now getting paid for their work. Though it wasn't much, the notoriety felt amazing! Jean's and Marco's days were spent working, playing video games, and having the times of their lives together. 

 

Yet, for Jean, things weren't quite the same as they were before. 

 

Too often a warm, fluttery sensation built up in the pit of his stomach everytime he had to lean over Marco to grab the pot of freshly brewed coffee while the other fried up eggs in the morning. They helped each other wash the dishes, side by side, belting out whatever song one of their ipods shuffled out that they both knew; some times splashing soap suds and declaring war on each other. The smell of Marco's shampoo, the way he spooned too much sugar into his tea-- every new freckle Jean noticed, it all became so precious to him, that it almost physically hurt. 

 

He was getting in deep here. Too deep. 

 

There was no figuring out how, or why these feelings started to manifest themselves. Honestly, falling for Marco felt as natural as falling asleep. 

 

And the last crush he had, was on Mikasa-- and not only was that years ago, it also ended badly... of course, running up to some one and screaming how lovely their hair is, and how you want to grow up and marry that person, tends to normally not end well. The point was, Jean didn't even know where to begin, to address these feelings. He didn't even know who he could talk to, and seek out some advice... 

 

The only person he felt comfortable talking to about his problems was Marco, ergo his dilemna. Because there was no way in hell he would let Marco glean even a shred of how he felt towards him, unless he started it. All of their fans were definitely not making the situation any easier, either. 

 

With every new video that they uploaded, the fans (mostly of the female persuasion) gushed to one another in the comments about how the two of them look so cute together. They would rant about the way they stared at each other, and comfortably leaned close together; and it didn't help that almost half of their banter could be construed as flirting... 

 

They had even come up with JeanBodt as their pairing name, and tweeted them fanart and links to their disturbingly graphic fanfictions. Not that Jean actively decided to read most of those fanfictions and fantasize about them becoming a reality. Not. At. All. 

 

He sighed wistfully, and then Jean went back to editing their latest video and tried to ignore how he constantly looked at Marco like a love sick puppy, when he knew the other couldn't see. 

 

\----- 

 

"Jeaaaaaaaannnn," Marco whined, as said blond ruthlessly smashed his Kart off of Rainbow Road; a satisfied chuckle from Bowser the cherry on top of Jean's victory sundae. "That was a dick move, and you know it." Marco was pouting, actually pouting and Jean had to employ every last ounce of willpower, not to kiss that sullen look off of his cute fucking face.  

  

"Hey, I pick Bowser and I play to win," he replied, nudging Marco good naturedly in the side."I want a rematch." Marco grumbled, studiously avoiding eye contact with the blond. 

 

Jean laughed, but still agreed; because he would never be able to say 'no' to a face like that. "Your funeral," he deadpanned, mercifully selecting another track for them to play. Before he started up the new match though, he paused for a bit, as a crazy idea hit him. 

 

"Jean, why aren't you starting it up; afraid I'll cream you this time?" 

 

The blond swallowed, and fixed Marco with an intense stare. "W-we should make this match more interesting-- you know, spice things up a bit." His voice quavered embarrassingly, but he got out what he wanted to say, and that's all that mattered. 

 

"Ooooookaaaayyy, what do you have in mind?" 

 

"Loser has to do whatever the winner wants," Jean declared, his pitch leaning more toward the squeaky side. 

 

Marco gave him an odd look, but shrugged as he said, "Yeah, sure-- whatever you want. Doesn't change the fact that I'm totally going to beat you this time." 

 

Satisfied that Marco agreed, Jean clicked on the track he wanted to play, and with his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, the race began. 

 

\----- 

 

"Dammit, I can't believe I lost..." Jean cried out dramatically, flopping back onto his bean bag chair in defeat. 

 

"Told you I'd win this time, without your underhanded tactics to get in my way," Marco gloated, chucking one of the couch pillows at Jean's forlorn face. 

 

Jean ripped the pillow off of his face and tossed it back at Marco; who easily dodged it. "Go ahead and submit me to whatever torture you deem fit, you freckled demon." 

 

Marco studied Jean, and his extra pissy reaction to losing. He was always a sore loser, but this amount of vehemence seemed weird. "Why did you even want to bet like that any way? We never bet when we game." 

 

Jean's scowl deepened, and he turned on his side to avoid seeing Marco's curious expression. "It doesn't matter, it was just a dumb idea," he pouted. 

 

With a frown, Marco picked up the pillow that had sailed passed his face and soundly smacked it across Jean's bony ass. "Fine," smack  "if you're going," smack "to be a big piss baby," smack smack "then as the winner, I demand you tell me!" 

 

Jean growled, and turned over as Marco was midway to delivering the fifth pillow smack. "I WANTED TO WIN SO I COULD MAKE YOU KISS ME, OKAY?!" 

 

Marco paused mid swing, his eyes blowing wide and his jaw going slack. "Oh." It was as eloquent as he could be in the moment, since his brain had kind of gone all dial up on him; complete with a blue screen of death, and that annoying brrrrrr eeeeeeeEEEEEEeeettttt kind of noise. 

 

"I figured it'd be the one and only time I'd get to do it if I won," Jean huffed, his expression dark and brooding. "It was dumb, and I never should've brought it up." 

 

"The question is," Marco treaded cautiously since Jean looked so angry and confused, "why you would want to kiss me in the first place?" He approached the blond like he would a wild animal, finally placing a hesitant hand on Jean's shoulder. 

 

Jean visibly gulped, his gaze immediately drawn to the hand that was touching him and then back up to warm, brown eyes that looked so soft and accepting. He licked his lips, and released a shuddery breath. It was time to lay all the cards out onto the crappy table he had set up for himself. "I guess it's uh... well, I guess it's cuz I kinda like you Freckles." 

 

A soft smile spread across Marco's face. The hand he had on Jean's shoulder shifted ever so slowly to the nape of his neck, and he pulled himself closer to angle their faces just right. And then, as easily as breathing, Marco Bodt kissed Jean Kirschtein. 

 

It was quick, with all the lingering sweetness of young love. Marco's eyelashes lifted slowly, a love drunk grin transforming his face into a sun beam. "I guess I kind of like you too, you big piss baby." 

 

Jean's face was flushed red, and he looked about ready to have an aneurysm. "T-then you should totally be my boyfriend then, if you are agreeable!" He shouted awkwardly, and it made Marco devolve into a fit of giggles. 

 

"Yes, it's definitely agreeable Jean." 

 

"Good," the blond stated proudly, pulling Marco in for another kiss, that turned into them making out on Jean's bean bag chair. 

 

And all the fanfictions in the world, could not compare to how Jean and Marco really did end up together. 

 


End file.
